Bring Me Heaven
by Ten Bones
Summary: As the war to wake Celty's head begins, a strange light cuts through the night sky and leaves a dead color gangster behind, prompting Izaya to wonder what could cause such an aberrant event. Probing into the mystery starts as a side note to his war, but soon reveals a mafia hit, a woman that can disassemble his lies, and maybe even his ticket into Valhalla. IzayaxValkyrie
1. Chapter 1

Greetings! Alright this is a more polished (dear god I hope so at least) version of "Let's All Go to Heaven". I was unhappy with the previous version and the more I thought about it, the more I realized there were inconsistencies with characters and plot. I'm going to try to do better here but damn, I'm terrified I'm going to muck it all up and write myself into a hole like I did with the last one. Also, I should apologize to the readers and subscribers of the other story; I'm really sorry to have stopped that story as I have but I felt I needed to, and I hope you guys can understand my reasoning. And now that I have bared my insecurities to you guys I hope you enjoy even if it's just a little.

Anyway, I don't own Durarara or any of the characters therein.

-Chapter 1-

A white rook went sailing across the desk with a flick of a finger and smacked the large window with a tiny clink of sound, the piece no longer of any immediate use to the broker as he leaned grinning over his board. The first move in his latest game was done, one of the smaller gang's leaders now safely in custody as of a few minutes ago. Now the stage was set for his next move. Who would it be next though? The Razors? Maybe the Crimson Heads? There were so many possibilities, endless variations and encounters between the remaining gangs. It was enough to make him giddy. But that could come later when the real fun began.

"Namie, pick a number," Izaya ordered in glee, involving his secretary just to shake things up. "One through seven."

She didn't look up from her thick book of newspaper clippings; she wasn't looking for anything in particular, he knew that, but that wouldn't stop her from denying her employer an answer. Fine, the decision could wait a few minutes if she didn't want to play.

"No fun at all," he chuckled lowly and swiveled on his stool to face the rest of his apartment.

The television was on across the room, a news report on a small fire started by the Rose Raiders in north Ikebukuro just finishing up before a commercial break. When the advertisements for a new resort and three different snacks had finished, the news flared back to life and footage of the arrest not ten minutes ago played. Even from that angle he could see Kuzuhara hauling off Kido Yanagisuwa, leader of the Purple Stripes, who was struggling and rambling angrily about being framed. Too bad for him it didn't matter that that was true, Izaya just needed him to be shoved aside long enough for all the Purple Stripes' territory to go up for grabs. He strode to the television and flipped it off when the idiot reporter covering the story declared that the recent muggings and attacks in that part of the city would stop.

It was true the attacks by the Purple Stripes would stop; the little group would soon fall apart without its precious leader and would no longer pose a threat. But it was all the other gangs that the city needed to worry about now, the ones he'd convinced to be more low-key than the hot headed Yanagisuwa's group.

With just a bit of his influence, Izaya had made sure the Stripes had forcibly wedged themselves between the current warring gangs despite costing them a lot of time and manpower. The rundown apartment complex that had previously been held by the Crimson Heads and before them the Razors, or the warehouse constantly pushed on by the Sons of K.A.I to name just a few of the places he's helped the Stripes take over. Either way, the remaining gangs would soon be at each other's throat and all of Ikebukuro would explode into a glorious cacophony of violence.

Izaya returned to his desk and looked at the board once more. He pushed three black Othello pieces forward, trapping a small group of hapless pawns that would meet them head on before darkness fell across the entire city. Across the board he pushed the black queen up a square, a white knight stalking ever closer but remaining just out of her sight. He hummed to himself, now relaxing in his office chair as he examined his work from another side of the playing field. Of course he could move the game along now, but he wouldn't be able to savor everyone's reactions as they ran down the paths he set, the gang members, the citizens outside the brawl, Mikado's, and most importantly, Celty's. For now he'd just have to sit back and watch as all his little humans ran around and tried to kill each other.

"He's going to know you set him up," Namie said coolly, breaking the quiet.

"You mean, Yanagisuwa?" Izaya asked knowing full well what she meant as he spun around to look out at his city. "Of course he will, he's not entirely stupid."

"And you don't think he'll want to get even with you?" There was a hint of hope in her voice. Of course there would be.

"Is that worry I hear, Namie?" He teased watching the city grow darker and darker with each inch of the sun dropping away to make way for the twilight. By now those Othello pieces were baring down on the unsuspecting pawns. "I'm sure he will, but he's of no immediate concern. He'll be out of prison in a few weeks once the cops finally realize he _is _innocent. Too bad he'll have no group to fall back on. But by then I'll be the least of his concerns."

Blackness soon settled over the city, quickly overpowered by the lights below and dwindling down to the inky haze that he'd long become accustomed to. It was obnoxiously serene. Namie was kind enough however, to interrupt the peaceful silence.

"I'm leav-" She paused and trotted to the window for a better look. "What in the world is that?"

Izaya had seen it too. A bright, white blast of light was cutting through the night and reaching all the way up to the starless sky. He could feel the grin slowly worming its way over his lips. _This _was certainly unexpected, whatever it was. And what exactly was_ it_? He couldn't explain it, and neither could Namie given her scarcely gaping mouth and absorbed stare.

The pillar of light quickly disappeared, breaking apart into shards of light that faded back into the night. Whatever it had been, it had risen from the recently abandoned Purple Stripes territory where those brawling pieces would be right about now. Well, when the Razor's came out on top of the little dual he be sure to pay them a special visit and find out what that was.

* * *

"Oh my god, Yrsa, what did you do?" Mashi gasped for breath when she finally reached the depths of the alley that her friend had run down.

They'd been walking, getting to know the city before dark, and had been headed back down the streets towards their apartment when they heard the yelling. Mashi had wisely not wanted to get involved. Yrsa on the other hand had run down the alley and told her to wait. When the pillar of light signally a departing soul had appeared Mashi could wait no longer.

Yrsa paused in her whisperings of an ancient rite, barely audible over the maddening shrieks of a raven cutting an angry path in the air above her as if scolding the woman.

"He was dying, Mashi. This at least ensures some peace," she said as she stood over the corpse of a young man. She continued to chant quietly for the unknown man's soul until the prayer was finished.

Mashi knew not to interrupt her, but she could smell the blood in the air, the death that lingered heavily and seeped into her lungs like poison. It was too familiar and she couldn't stay there. Yrsa couldn't either, especially not after the scene she's just caused.

"We have to go," Mashi said firmly, jogging to her friend and tugging urgently on her arm. It was then she heard the wails of a police siren. The raven cried its displeasure and took flight high above the buildings.

Yrsa closed her mouth and watched the bird flee before turning to stare down the alley where the siren's scream grew ever louder.

"Can you get us out of here?" She asked, casting one last look at the stranger.

Mashi nodded. They ran into the deep shadows of a building and disappeared. Not a full minute after their departure and the police were rushing down the alley armed with flashlights but finding nothing but the torn and empty body with a crimson band around his head.


	2. Chapter 2

New chapter! I've found this strangely easier to write when just focusing on Izaya, is that weird? Anywhoodily-doodly, I'd like to thank WarriorMan199456 for favoriting and following and everyone who's currently reading. Hope you guys enjoy this one.

-Chapter 2-

The visit to the Razor's hideout had been fruitless so far, at least in concerning that aberrant light in the sky that still had the town buzzing. Still, Shinji and his bloodthirsty little group had given him something to think on.

Apparently during his scheduled fight between a few of the Crimson Head's lackeys and the Razors, one of the Head's had been murdered, brutally if the police reports he'd happened across were accurate. For a fleeting moment he had thought the light had had something to do with the boy's ghastly demise, but his knowledge of the Razor's quickly erased the thought. Shinji's group was infamous for their violent nature, each of them carrying a knife or blade of some sort and a criminal background was practically a badge of honor among them. Izaya didn't hate them, but he couldn't say he loved them quite the same as the other humans in his flock, especially when they were responsible for the murder of more of those precious humans as well as mucking up his carefully laid plans. The boy's death hadn't been the way that he had wanted this war to start, but he at least had enough control over Shinji to make sure his idiot thugs stayed in line for the rest of the time. At least until he had the Rose Raiders start in on them.

But the subterfuge had to wait. For now he had to sit and endure a worried, yet power hungry, rant that Shinji gave his Razors; it was hard not to crack a smile as the words spilled out from his younger's mouth. The speech consisted of few of the boy's own thoughts, each word an echo of something Izaya had gently implied that Shinji say. It was really very amusing to watch such a poorly spoken human speak so eloquently to a band of thugs who probably only understood the part about "our enemies will want revenge".

When the speech ended the room exploded in cheer, the troops rallied but understandably cautious now, as Shinji headed over to the variously sized packing crates that served as most of the furniture. The nineteen year old looked at Izaya with all the hope of a puppy expecting a treat for the trick it had performed. How could he not play along?

Izaya gave a wide smile and clapped his hands in mock applause. "Very inspiring words."

Shinji gave the enormous grin that Izaya knew he would. "I couldn'ta done it without you. But what's our next step? We layin' low 'til the heat dies down? What if the cops find out it was us an' come ta get us?"

And there was that ineloquent speech that Izaya had become familiar with over the last few months. Sometimes it was a wonder how he managed to get his crew together when he could barely form a coherent sentence without Izaya's help.

"Now, now, try not to worry. Just make sure your men don't get so overzealous next time, I can't very well help criminals can I?" Izaya smiled kindly. "It'd be bad for business and I know you can understand that."

Shinji nodded silently and waited for him to continue.

"I'll make sure the police don't come after you, but you have to control your men a little better."

Another nod.

"Good, I'm glad we could come to this understanding. After all, I'd hate to see those less talented gangs take over your fine city."

The nod was replaced by a proud smile. "Don't worry, you're playin' for the winnin' team here."

Izaya smiled back, not quite as wide as Shinji did, and rested his hands on his knee. "I'm not really playing for anyone. Your group just happened to ask me for help before the others," he lied. "Speaking of which, there's the matter of payment. I'm afraid I'll have to ask for double my usual fee since your men acted out of line."

Shinji balked, his eyes widening and mind working furiously to figure out how he was going to get that kind of cash. Izaya just sat and smiled, knowing the bargaining was about to begin.

"There somethin' else we can do? I don't got that kinda money," Shinji pleaded quickly in fear of losing what he thought was his greatest asset. "You said you wanted info on that light thing right? My guys mighta seen somethin' 'fore they ran off!"

"Oh?" Izaya leaned forward a little, pleased by this. "But what if they don't?" He grinned when the boy paled.

"They gotta have seen somethin'. I'll get 'em now!"

With that Shinji was off, running to find the men he'd ordered to beat the murderers as punishment. A few minutes later he returned with three teenagers, each too young to have committed such a brutal crime, and beaten to a bloody pulp; one, Izaya noticed, was sporting several broken teeth.

"Whatever you want boss!" The boy with the broken teeth cried through lips coated in congealing blood. "We'll tell him what we saw!"

He wondered if they had in fact seen anything. After all, the desperate would give any information no matter how pointless if they thought it would ease their suffering. Regardless, Izaya leaned forward with a benevolent expression, the kind visage those broken bodies needed to side with them.

"Calm down, I'm sure Shinji thinks you've been punished long enough. Poor things," Izaya stated with a sideways glance to their leader. Shinji nodded his sudden agreement.

The three boys at his feet looked like they had never been more relieved. They started talking all at once, near frantic to repay such a benediction.

"The Head that died- he was protecting his crew, told them all to run!" The boy with an eye so swollen it couldn't open garbled through almost equally swollen lips.

That was old information. He already knew the Crimson Heads protected their own above all else, it all led back to the entire gang being made up of cousins and siblings, a lot of them. He let them continue without real hope for something he could go on.

"The others got away so we jumped on him cause it was an easy fight that way," declared broken-teeth.

"And then this girl showed up-"

_That _was definitely something he didn't know.

"What girl?" Shinji asked at once. Clearly he hadn't heard this part before sending them for a beating.

"Well, this lady I guess," amended broken-teeth. "I think she saw what happened, but I didn't see her when we were stabbin' him and then she was just there all of a sudden."

"What did she look like?" Izaya inquired. It would be easy enough to find some security footage from the area around that time, and if he could get a description...

"Scary," the last boy said, younger and less abused than the others. "She looked like she coulda killed us right then and there."

Izaya couldn't help the laugh he let out. It was just too much. "So you murder a man in cold blood but are scared to meet the same fate?" He cackled in sheer mirth while the others looked on in confusion. His laughter receded and he turned back to the youngest boy. "What did she look like? Besides scary."

"It was hard to see in the alley, but she had light hair and looked like a foreigner. And her voice wasn't girly or cute," the young one answered.

"How do ya know what she sounds like?" Shinji asked, annoyed even more at this previously untapped well of information that he'd willingly allowed to pass him by.

The one with the swollen face answered, probably anxious to add something before he was counted as useless to the conversation and returned to his bludgeoning. "She started screaming at us about how we killed him. She just kept yelling it, 'You killed him! You killed him!' and I thought she was overreacting."

"Looks like she was right," Izaya remarked lightly. He hopped up off his crate, his back and rear sore from the uncomfortable chair. "You boys were _very _helpful. Thank you very much."

They looked delighted, and then hopeful as they looked on at the glowering Shinji; if the broker had to guess, the fool was sulking about how the information hadn't gotten to him first, but that's what he got for not questioning them properly before sending them to the wolves.

"Well, I've got to be going. I'll keep in contact," he chirped and glided towards the exit of the old shipping warehouse.

* * *

The computer screen was alive with the images from different security cameras, some black and white, others in full color that were more helpful in eliminating suspects. It was an easy enough task to find a light-haired foreigner at this time of year, the summer brining in the tourists from anywhere from China to America and anything in between. So far he had a list of blondes and light brunettes, and even a few women with bright, fiery red hair though some of it was obviously dyed even though the semi-grainy lens of the cameras.

His list wasn't long, only a handful of women matching the description had been in the area within five minutes of the strange light, though he couldn't say any of his suspects looked as frightening as the Razor had contended. A petite blonde from the U.K., a Swedish teenager with pale red hair, and a woman whose hair true color remained a mystery behind the grayscale of an older model camera to name a few. He had most of the names by now, and the addresses or hotel rooms would soon follow. A half hour worth of work, tops, even with his secretary out on a grocery run.

When the task was done Izaya regarded his list. Only twenty-six women that he needed to hunt down. Only three were residents ranging from anywhere between three years to 2 months while the rest were vacationing for a couple of weeks at most. He grinned to himself, the timeframe would make this more interesting. Besides that, it was a good cover. A vacationer coming to Japan for just a few days, causing a little mischief and then fleeing to do it somewhere else. A good cover yes, but not good enough to make him rule anyone out.

He leapt from his chair and let gravity tip him dangerously close to the floor before he pranced to the sofa and collected his coat. The list of names sank down into his pocket and he twirled merrily to the front door, excited to play this new game. His only disappointment that his mystery woman had a purportedly deep voice if "not girly or cute" was to be believed, and that might easily give her away.

Still, there would be some fun to be had in interrogating the other woman. So why wait until tomorrow to start?

There was a definite bounce to his step as he left his apartment for Ikebukuro.


	3. Chapter 3

Just a quick shout out to WarriorMan199456 for the review, it totally made my day! So thanks again, and thank you Flor Velasquez for the follow. Now onwards to that great big adventure that is a story!

-Chapter 3-

After two hours spent finding the names and addresses, and then an additional eleven hours spent hunting down and speaking with the different women on his list, Izaya was no closer to discovering what that light was than when he started. The Swedish girl had been vapid and useless, the vacationing German woman had matched the voice description but he'd found footage of her at entering a taxi as the event was just starting, and the American girl had been so busy trying to flirt that he almost immediately concluded that she wasn't his target.

The last two days had been a disappointment to say the least, each suspect as boring and uniformed as the last. He refused to be deterred. _Someone _knew what had happened. Beams of light didn't just appear out of nowhere and without reason– though if Celty were to be believed than aliens had finally decided to attack Ikebukro; it was hilarious how high-alert she'd become since the incident and no amount of reason could convince her that invasion wasn't imminent. But now he had only two names left: Yrsa Guðrúdóttir and Hailey Ainsworth, former residents of Iceland and England respectively.

He would start with Yrsa. She was closer after all, and not trapped in a classroom and teaching literature to college students until later that evening. A few more blocks and he'd 'stumble' upon the coffee shop that she frequented on her day off work. He was surprised when he hadn't been able to find much about her despite the resources at his fingertips, but he'd been able to conclude that she was his age and new to the country.

His plan was simple enough, he would pose as a much needed friend in the big, scary new city. The only problem with that plan was that when he found her she was already seated with a Japanese woman who was speaking animatedly, if not a little heatedly, to her. This changed things, but only slightly as he neared the pair.

He passed by the women with only the cursory look that any stranger gave to other strangers, stopping to linger in the line leading to the small window where an impatient looking barista waited. The glance hadn't told him overmuch, just an average enough woman from out of country.

Her friend managed to pique his interest far more, if only for a moment. Short, dark hair and a face that was too familiar for a stranger like her to possess, yet he couldn't place where he had seen her before. It bothered him the entire time he listened in on their conversation, a chat held in English of all things.

"This job's no good," one of them– the stranger if he had to guess –said with an accent not unlike Simon's and just as strong. "I'd need a sanitation card."

"Damn," replied the soprano voice of her friend. "Well what about this? It says you'd work nights as a bouncer."

"Too many people," sighed Russian-Accent as Izaya moved forward in the line. "Anything like a janitor or a night watchman?"

Behind him he could hear the soft turning of pages. If he had to guess based on their discussion, they were searching want ads in a newspaper or magazine. A defeated sigh rang out behind him, tempting him to turn and admire the look of despair.

"Nothing like that I'm afraid. We can hold off finding you a job a little longer, but not much. Money's getting too tight," the other woman reminded. There was more rustling, the clink of plastic and jangling of keys as one of them dug through a purse. "Which reminds me, you need to take Mr. Tanaka this week's payment. Here, it's just enough."

Izaya's teeth worried his lower lip a moment to fight back the smile. Despite the lack of background information, he had managed to dig up a juicy little tidbit about her move to the Tokyo ward. It turned out that Miss Guðrúdóttir had taken out a sizable loan from Tom Tanaka's agency to help pay for her shabby apartment near the south gate. It was nothing to concern himself with at the moment, but it was amusing to think of a foreigner like her scrambling for cash to keep a certain monster's fists at bay.

"To Tom? Why do I need to do it?" Huffed the Russian-Accent.

The grin in that low voice was practically audible. "It'll give you a chance to talk to that Shizuo guy." A giggle followed that didn't quite match the tone of her voice.

"Are you insane?" Russian-Accent hissed. "You know what happens when I get too close to someone, Yrsa!" That confirmed his suspicions about which voice belonged to whom. So why did the Japanese woman sound like she grew up thousands of miles away? A curious little mystery he'd solve between organizing gang fights, he decided, just something to stave off boredom.

He reached the front of the line and took his time in ordering a black coffee, straining his ear to hear more of their conversation while the woman behind the counter tutted indignantly.

"Hey, I'm still here aren't I?" Yrsa chuckled. "Besides, Mashi, you've been cooped up in the apartment all week and I know it's making you stir crazy. So go, take this week's dues, and then chat up Mr. Tall, Blonde, and Destructive. And then pick up some groceries while you're at it."

Mashi didn't answer right away, her silence indicative of a woman trying not to lash out with her tongue. "Was that you're plan all along?"

"No. My plan is to get you a boyfriend, or at very least laid," Yrsa teased. "Now go on, get. I'll see you at home later."

The woman manning the coffee counter handed Izaya his cup as the rattle of metal legs on concrete scraped behind him. When he turned around he saw the dark-haired woman stomping away in irritation. It was such a perfect opportunity to move in on Yrsa's table that it almost seemed fated.

"Mind if I join you?" He asked in Japanese, knowing full well that she had to be at least proficient in the language to have lived there for almost three months.

She looked surprised but pleased. Without a word, she motioned for him to take the chair her friend had just vacated. Yrsa remained silent, sipping a drink so sugary he could smell the sweetness even from across the table as he took the seat.

He finally got a good look at her without the stolen glances from the coffee line or the film grain of ancient technology, and while he had never seen a Viking she certainly looked the part. She was tall even when seated, well-built, with a ridiculous curtain of blonde hair so pale it was almost white. While he studied her, he was very aware of the icy blue eyes scrutinizing right back, almost like she was sizing up an opponent; he had a nagging feeling that she might not be completely stupid. Good, it would be more interesting that way.

"Just visiting?" He started slowly.

"I live here with my sister actually," she lied casually, and would have done so successfully if he hadn't been able to track down her living conditions; a single room apartment in a disreputable part of town that had only one renter registered. "You might have seen her when you walked up."

"That dark haired woman right?" She nodded her affirmation. "I can't say I saw much family resemblance," he told her leaning back and swirling the untouched coffee in its cup without any intention to drink the cheap sludge.

She laughed a little. "We get that a lot."

Another lie that rolled naturally off her tongue, it had to be. There was no way that this woman with nearly white hair before him shared even a drop of blood with the one that had just left. For her to have such a skill was intriguing if nothing else, enough to delay his objective for a little more small talk.

He grinned slowly, savoring his own chance for deception. "And are you often told you're the prettier of the two?"

She laughed behind her cup. "More exotic here maybe. Back home it was the complete opposite."

"Oh? I'm guessing European, maybe Norway given your accent?"

A strange mixture of shock and delight came over her face. "You're close, I'm impressed. Iceland actually, originally at least, though Norway is nice this time of year, England and Italy too."

"You sound as if you've been."

"I move a lot." How much exactly, he wondered. "I probably won't be here for very long either."

"And how long have you lived here?" He pried.

How disappointing it was when she told the truth. He'd almost been hoping she would lie again and give something away. Everyone did a little something when they lied whether they admitted it or not. A twitch of the mouth or the subtle shift of the eyes, anything really; he just needed to figure out what gave her away.

"And how do you like it so far? I can't imagine the recent gang activity has left a very good impression."

"I can't say it's boring that's for sure. I mean here I am just enjoying some coffee and a good-looking guy like you invites himself to my table," she said without compunction. "But I get the feeling your intention wasn't to flirt with me. A shame really, I think I'd have liked to get to know you."

He didn't know whether to be shocked or even a tiny bit impressed that she'd seen through the act. Instead he found himself amused, a smile quickly crossing his lips.

"You found me out," he said in playful defeat. "You see, I'm an information broker, and I think you might be able to help me with something."

A coquettish smirk winked back at him. "And if I can be of help?" Clearly she still had every intention of winning him over with her feminine wiles. He'd be very glad to disappoint her.

"I'd be very grateful," he lied.

"Would you now?" She laughed derisively. "Alright, ask what you will, Mister, um…"

"Izaya Orihara," he responded. "And from what I've learned, you were in the area when that strange light appeared a few days ago. I was wondering if you could tell me anything about that."

The smirk gave way to a furrowed brow and frown. "I'm afraid I didn't see much of anything. I wish I had though, I think I would have liked you 'grateful'."

She was lying. Her face gave nothing away but she was lying, an unfamiliar feeling in his gut telling him that she knew exactly what that light had been. The only question now was why she would lie about it when it was the perfect opportunity for a flirt like her to try and crawl her way into his good graces.

Oh well, it was a mystery he could put off until another day. He'd figure it out soon enough but better not to press too much now because that rarely occurring gut-feeling was also telling him she wouldn't say anymore on the subject. For now at least.

Instead he could wait and watch what happened next. It wasn't like she was going anywhere soon, that debt of hers would keep her firmly within his reach until he figured out what it was that she was hiding. Actually, that gave him a good idea. If certain unforeseen events occurred that kept that debt from being paid off, he might be the solution to her financial difficulties. But only if she decided to cooperate with him.

Izaya pushed his chair away from the table and stood up, his coffee cup left full and abandoned on the gaudy tablecloth of pale pink linen.

"It's too bad," he grieved in imitation. "I was hoping you'd be able to help me."

"Sorry I can't be more helpful, but if you decide you want to talk about something other than business feel free to give me a call." Yrsa slipped a napkin she'd written her name and cell number on across the table. He got the feeling that the woman didn't do subtlety well, if at all.

He pretended to read the information before pocketing the napkin. "Thank you," he said through a smile full of devious charm. "Can I call you anytime, Yrsa-chan?"

She just laughed again. "You really shouldn't flirt when you don't mean it, flattery will only get you so far. Izaya-chan." She teased, returning to her coffee and book she pulled from her purse.

* * *

Alright guys, I hope you all liked that but now I'm going to ask for a little help if you'll indulge me. I'm at an impasse for the next chapter; I don't know if I should be keeping it mostly to Izaya's perspective as I've been doing or veer off to Yrsa or even someone else for some outside perspective on the events going down. It's just a thought, but I'd like to see what you guys think and would like to see. Anyways, please review and I'll see you all at the next chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

This chapter is a bit longer than the others, but I hope it's the entertaining and plot-driven sort of longer. I felt I needed to toss Mashi into the story, finally, since she's going to be a focal point for Izaya, at least on the side. Plus another gang was introduced, and that's always fun. Anywho, I'd like to thank Kadoodles for the favorite and XxXLoveless-NinjaXxX for the follow. Also, a big thanks to Awesomer then you, and Warriorman199456 for your input and reviews, and another thanks to Jam-Man265 for your review. Seriously, those things are like sweet nectar to me. Now without further ado, please enjoy.

-Chapter 4-

Something was brewing in Ikebukuro, something that was going to make the drama that had unfolded between the Dollars and Yellow Scarves seem tame in comparison. She could _feel_ it, but no one believed her, not even Shinra. He said she was being paranoid and that she shouldn't get so worked up. But what did he know? _He _hadn't been on the same block when that abduction had happened! What else could that light have been if it wasn't aliens kidnapping some poor citizen?!

Celty shook the unpleasant thoughts from her mind. She had a job to do. It wasn't anything unusual or less twisted than most of the work Izaya threw her way. Tonight she'd be collecting another girl, and that was all he'd said on the subject. She was one of his hobbies, some poor girl that he'd probably chatted up online, just another girl that he'd tricked into meeting beyond the screen with the false promise of a joint suicide. Maybe she should be glad that those girls usually just ended up with a changed outlook on life and a newfound hatred of a certain information broker; it certainly beat the alternative. With a mighty scream, her horse took off like a shot, dodging and weaving between cars, veering sharply into an alley and back out onto another street, almost at her destination.

But like with all disagreeable things, her mind went back to the current situation around town. Even without the threat of aliens things were getting bad. The recent gang activity had gotten out of hand. It was almost impossible to go out these days without seeing a fight or hearing a mugging down some shadowy alley. The police and news reports said it would die down with the arrest of the Purple Stripes' leader. True, there had been less fights out in the open, but an entirely new spectrum of colors had surfaced in place of purple. There had been a rash of arsons, thefts, and even the recent murder of that Crimson Head since the Stripes' leader went away, but it was all low-key, nothing out in the open the way that the Purple's Stripes had always operated. If this was what the cops considered "under control" than she didn't want to see what a crisis would look like.

These thoughts plagued her as she made the final turn onto the street where she would find the 'package', her horse slowing to a crawl on the poorly lit road. The strange part about all the recent violence was how small a role the Dollars were playing in it. She'd been more active in the chats since that nasty business with Masaomi's gang, trying to keep her own side safe. After a little digging and questioning a number of the members, she'd learned that not a single Dollar had been attacked, at least not for gang affiliation like the last time. A few of them had been mugged, one girl nearly raped before the attackers had made the mistake of dragging Shizuo into it (how they'd done that she couldn't even begin to imagine), but none of them had suffered the savage beatings that the other gangs were experiencing.

It was just too weird. Had Mikado somehow worked out a deal with the other leaders? No, with the rate that rumors spread that would have gotten out by now. So maybe it was the Dollars' transparency just keeping them out of trouble for now? Too many questions and not enough answers, and now her target was in sight.

The girl was fifteen at most, sprawled out across the sidewalk at the edge of the pool of light a streetlamp was casting down on her. Her knees and face were scraped and cut from what must have been a fall, and the way she was laid out made the Dullahan wonder if she hadn't been running when whatever drug Izaya had given her finally kicked in. Strange that he had let her run, but maybe his hobbies were just getting more depraved.

Celty stepped away from her horse, the creature humming softly as the engine idled. The girl was just starting to wake up when Celty realized who she was, or more accurately, what this girl belonged to. The fist-sized pink plastic rose clipped in her hair immediately marked her as a member of the Rose Raiders, the only all-female gang in the city if Kanra was to be believed. She knew that Izaya liked insane games, but a gang member? That was strange, even for him.

Consciousness returned fully to the girl, and in a quivering voice she asked, "Y-you aren't one of the Flags are you?" Her face was pure horror, so much so that she couldn't even lift herself from the ground.

Celty stepped forward as carefully as she could, looking the way she did, not wanting to terrorize the poor girl any more. Her hand was frantically typing away at her phone as she crouched in front of the girl, and still trying to look as unthreatening as possible she flashed the screen to the gangster.

[No. I was sent to deliver you.]

"Wait, you're the Black Rider. Why are you-" A phone vibrated loudly on the concrete next to the girl.

Those frightening eyes moved between the reflective shield of Celty's helmet and the buzzing phone on the ground as a sealed envelope flashed across the bright screen. She snatched it up quickly and read the text as if her life depended on it, large eyes going back to Celty with every other word she took in.

"He…he says I should go with you," the girl said, finally picking herself off the ground; in addition to the cuts, her ankle looked twisted, maybe even sprained.

Celty tapped away at her phone again.

[Who?]

"Izaya," came the simple reply.

Of course.

"He said you'll know where to go…" she trailed off, that fear never quite leaving her face.

Celty just nodded and straightened up, motioning for the girl to follow her to the waiting horse. The Rose Raider followed sheepishly, just another taken in by the Black Rider's fearsome and misleading reputation. She sighed in the only way she could, wishing she weren't quite so infamous.

Once the Raider was safely seated and gripping Celty's belly they were off. It was a long drive, the drop off clear across town and just outside the entertainment district in an empty lot where construction for some new arcade or karaoke bar would soon begin. What she didn't expect was for Izaya to be standing under the glow of the streetlight when they arrived.

The horse pulled to a halt and the girl jumped away so quickly it was like she'd been burned. What made the night even stranger was that the Raider limped hurriedly over to Izaya and threw her arms around him, he even set a soothing hand on her back like some benevolent spirit comforting one of his flock.

"You saved me! Sumi said those guys didn't hang out over there but they did and you saved me!" She cried, very near the brink of tears. A moment later the floodgates burst and the girl was sobbing hysterically into his shirt.

Celty stood with one foot on the ground, watching the scene play out before her and making her feel like one of those people that stopped to watch a car that had been pulled over by the police– horrible men that they were. It was something that shouldn't be at all interesting and yet she could turn away.

Izaya rubbed the girl's back and cooed to her softly. "I know. I'm just glad I was able to help you in time," he lied with sweetness staining his tongue. "Are you alright, Asami?"

"Y-yes, they only spiked my drink a little before you warned me," she hiccupped against his chest.

"Then why are you crying?" He asked gently and pried her off, his eyes glittering sinisterly. Izaya reached out and flattened her hair, fixing the large rose clip so it hung correctly. "You're safe and sound thanks to me and our friend the Black Rider. And those nasty Black Flags that attacked you are all the way across town where they belong."

So that's what happened, Celty thought, the Black Flags had jumped her, and they had a reputation for a number of crimes against women in particular; it certainly explained Asami's initial reaction. But this didn't explain Izaya's involvement. He was far from a Good Samaritan.

"Can you get back home from here?" Izaya questioned tenderly, like he actually cared. Poor girl, she fell for it.

A light blush dusted the tear stained cheeks, cheeks the manipulative man was wiping clean with all the gentleness of a father, or lover, Celty thought with a disgusted shudder.

"Yes I think so, thank you again," Asami sniffled.

"You should thank her too," Izaya prompted with more warmth than he actually possessed.

At his words the young girl turned and gave a deep bow to the courier. "Thank you for saving me."

Asami gave one last grateful look to Izaya before hobbling off towards the flashing neon lights that marked the entertainment district. Celty was typing furiously on her phone before the girl was out of sight.

[What was that all about?]

He leaned in dramatically to read the script. "Oh that? Just helping a poor girl stay safe from those creeps the Black Flags," he replied, nonchalant, all that dripping tenderness gone from his voice and replaced with the usual amusement it held.

[Why? What do you have to gain from it?]

"I'm hurt, you think I'd do that for my own gain?" The wide grin on his face didn't do anything to persuade her against his lies. "To be honest though, I was bored and looking around town for something interesting. Then I stumble across some info about a poor girl getting drugged by a gang notorious for… shall we say 'certain crimes?'."

[So you only helped her because you were bored?]

Izaya chuckled and waved her question away. "No of course not. You see, there's been an awful lot of gang activity lately, enough to worry even me." She wasn't sure she believed that. He continued, "I saw this as an opportunity."

[For what?]

"To stop all this senseless fighting. At least in part. War is boring, and if it comes to that then they'll all do the same boring things. They'll all go at each other and tear one another apart like rabid dogs, leaving a trail of blood for everyone else to mop up. And why would I want that? It'd be stupid really."

[And how will saving one gang member change anything?]

"With a little luck I'll be able to get an audience with their leader, Sumi, and from there maybe I'll be able to convince them to stop all this foolishness. They aren't the most violent of the gangs and they're far from the greatest threat to the city but it'd be a start." He suddenly frowned in sheer displeasure. "Besides, I hate to see my humans killing each other. They're so much less entertaining when they're dead."

She wasn't sure she believed that either, but it did fit more with his personality. And if he really was trying to stop a gang war she wasn't going to say anything against it. But knowing him, he'd end up pitting the gangs against each other and watch the resulting chaos. Still, she supposed it was better to have them aimed at each other than the rest of the city. She tried not to think about it as she got back on her horse and turned the wheel away, Izaya waving merrily to her as she sped off towards Shinra's apartment.

Celty was almost home, so close to falling into a nice, soft bed and forgetting about war and alien attacks when she spotted a friend. It was awfully late for Shizuo to be out, nearly eleven when she caught sight of him walking along the road outside a playground. He'd probably gotten into a fight again, or maybe he was just blowing off some steam after a bad day, either way she felt it best to check on him.

When she closed in she found that he wasn't alone, but a pretty woman was walking alongside him. She looked absolutely terrified, and upon closer inspection she saw that Shizuo looked nervous and awkward, fidgeting and twisting his hands near his pockets as if he was trying to stop himself reaching for a cigarette in his anxiety. Whatever was happening she felt like she needed to break in and try to relieve at least some of the tension rolling off of them.

The booming whinny of her horse alerted him. He looked up and smiled gratefully at her, stopping and waving her over to join them. The woman stopped as well, though she looked like she was ready to run at any second. She was probably afraid of her companion and his strength, most were, it was just a shame that most also kept their distance because of it rather than getting to know the man behind the insane muscles.

[Who's your friend?]

The woman stopped looking scared suddenly. Instead she gazed at Celty with intense interest, completely ignoring the screen displayed to the pair. It was more than a little creepy when the woman shuffled a little closer to her and away from Shizuo.

"Oh, this is Mashi," Shizuo said as he shifted between his feet. He finally gave in to his oral fixation and pulled a cigarette out of his pocket. "We're… sort of friends."

"We aren't," Mashi said at once. When Shizuo looked hurt, she quickly added, "yet."

The tension only grew between the two and Shizuo practically inhaled his entire cigarette, pulling out another as soon as the first was finished. Celty felt it her duty to try and keep the peace if only for Shizuo's sake.

[Are you new in town?]

Mashi glanced at the screen and gave a small nod.

[Well it's nice to meet you. What brought you to Ikebukro?]

Mashi shifted again, moving back from her now, as well as Shizuo. "I like new places," she dodged, her voice not even able to cover up the lie. Celty didn't press it, instead moving on to what she hoped was a less touchy subject.

[So how did you meet Shizuo?]

He answered this time, his second cigarette already reduced to ash. "Through Tom actually, her sister took out a loan and Mashi's been bringing the payments."

[Is that why you look so scared? Don't worry, Shizuo's a great guy and he wouldn't hurt you I swear!]

Mashi stared hard at the screen for several long moments as if she couldn't comprehend what was written there.

"I'm not afraid of him. I just don't trust him!" She blurted out. Again Shizuo looked hurt, more than the first time. Mashi again caught the saddened expression and again amended her words. "I don't trust anyone, don't take offense, Shizuo. I've just been burned a lot. Just… Listen, you don't seem like a bad guy, that's why I agreed to go out with you tonight. It's just hard for me to get close to people. Don't take it to heart. Please."

Mashi looked like she was in her early twenties, not nearly old enough to be so incredibly jaded. Whatever happened to her must have been bad, or maybe she just took it too hard. Either way it wasn't any of Celty's business.

[So what do you think of the city so far?]

"I like it, it's big and easy to get lost in. Plus…" She paused to pass a small smile at Shizuo, "some people have been really nice so far."

He stopped the third cigarette on its way to his mouth, a smile creeping over his lips. He lit up his vice, but it lasted much longer than the others had once his companion wasn't writing him off completely.

"So you're the Headless Rider right? Is that true? You have no head?" Mashi asked without pretense.

A breathless sigh racked Celty's body. She should have been used to these kinds of questions by now, they were asked enough these days. So instead of typing up a response she merely removed the helmet and let the shadows dance out over her shoulders.

The streetlight above them let out a deafening crack and abruptly died, leaving the trio in near darkness. The sudden, sharp noise startled her and made Shizuo twitch just a little. Mashi on the other hand hadn't so much as flinched; if anything she had calmed entirely when the blackness washed over them.

Celty pushed her helmet back in place and an eerie feeling crept up her spine, chilling her. There was something inhuman in the darkness, and it was emanating from the woman before her. That couldn't be right though, yet there was nothing else in the area to cause such a perturbing feeling.

"You alright?" Shizuo asked, the glow of his cigarette just managing to illuminate his face.

Celty nodded her helmet hoping that he didn't see through her façade. She didn't know what this was. Mashi was clearly human. She felt just as normal as Shizuo or anyone else did. So what was this pressing, supernatural aura that was coming off of her? It didn't feel malevolent, just different. It felt desperate, strangely enough, if she had to put it into words.

[Can I talk to you for a second, Mashi?]

She nodded and stepped away from Shizuo who just looked confused.

"What's up?" Mashi asked once Celty had led her into the halo of the nearest lamp.

[Are you human?]

The woman gave a crooked, worried sort of grin. "Technically."

What the hell did that mean?

[Can you elaborate?]

Mashi fidgeted. "I'm not completely sure of the term for you, but you're like a creature of death right? Don't deny it, I feel it on you."

Celty wasn't really sure how to respond to that, not at first. In the end she felt the truth would be best, even to this stranger.

[That's one way of putting it. I'm what's called a Dullahan.]

"Ah, that would explain it," she replied. "I don't really like talking about it, but you and I have some things in common. Although I'm not a fairy, or Irish. But let's just say I'm a little cursed."

[Cursed?]

Was such a thing possible? Well, if demon possessed swords and creatures like herself existed she supposed it was at very least probable, though a little archaic.

"Yeah, but just a little. But don't freak out, it's not like contagious or anything."

[Why tell me?]

Mashi gave a grim smile. "Because death is the only thing I can trust in this world." She glanced back at Shizuo, and even in the poor light Celty could see the faint blush across her cheeks. "If he's really a friend of yours than maybe I can get along with him. Few people like to be around people like us though."

[Give him a chance, he really is a good guy.]

The soft chuckle the woman gave was disbelieving at best. "Maybe. That's what my sister keeps telling me too. It was nice meeting you, Celty, see you around." And with that Mashi returned to Shizuo, much more comfortable than when Celty had driven up.


	5. Chapter 5

Hey everyone. To start, I feel like this is not...my strongest chapter because I feel like I'm rehashing too much with Izaya meeting with another gang leader after only a couple chapters, so I'm really sorry about that and hope you guys still enjoy it. Aside from that, I would like to thank WarriorMan199456 and Awesomer than you for their reviews.

-Chapter 5-

Clandestine meetings held in some dingy shipping warehouse or the basement level of a parking garage had become the norm lately, and Izaya hated normalcy. So when Sumi Suzuki, the younger, much more capable sister of the Razor's leader and creator of the Rose Raiders had asked him for a meeting, he had been happy to force her to hide her colors for a few hours and walk around the afternoon streets in lieu of his new norm. It was a much needed break from the cheap furniture– when there was any –and darkened buildings.

How wonderful it was to be among the crowds of his beloved humans again and not stuffed away in some dank hole to discuss his plans with those that couldn't even begin to fathom what he truly planned! Not to say that dear Sumi was any different. Certainly, she was marginally more intelligent than her brother, not that it took much, but she didn't even know key pieces of information. For example, she had no clue that Shinji was in a gang let alone that he operated one. Izaya was often tempted to let it slip that her older brother was one of her key rivals, accidently of course. But, he would hold back until the necessary time and just enjoy the warm sunlight and the girl's face as she tried to hide the blush that constantly crept upon her cheeks whenever he was near.

This was perhaps why the Rose Raiders were currently his favorite pawns, not including the Dollars who had yet to even join the other pieces on the board. As a group entirely composed of teenage girls, they were extremely easy to manipulate. A few flirts here, a kind word there, and now the façade that he was a guardian angel of sorts after the incident last week with Asami had them practically falling at his feet. Sumi was no less susceptible to his charms, her schoolgirl crush formed not long after he'd begun dealing with the group and his helping her build it up; he'd often made calculated little remarks about each new member being like a child of theirs, creatures they'd brought into a new world together, all in order to cement her devotion to him.

Ten minutes into their walk and Sumi still hadn't said why she had called this meeting. He was starting to get bored with her.

"What was it you wanted to talk about, Sumi?" Izaya pried gently. "Or did you just want me to see that cute new haircut?" He reached out and fingered a short lock, the redness only deepening on her face. Even that blush was becoming boring, the amusement he'd once felt having been outgrown when that had become her typical and only reaction.

"I wanted to thank you personally for what you did for Asami," Sumi responded quietly, her suddenly shy voice muted by the chatter of people around them.

Izaya smiled bashfully and turned away as if she'd embarrassed him. "You didn't have to do that. I was just happy to help my favorite girls."

"Do…do you have a favorite of all of us, Izaya?" That was probably the boldest she'd ever gotten with him. Amusing, but only just.

"You never know," he replied vaguely. "Was that all you wanted to talk about? I'm afraid I can't spare much more time, even for you, I have a busy schedule today." One that involved forcing his Icelandic target into telling him something, even if he had to stoop to using petty threats.

"No, no! Please, we've been having some trouble lately and I was hoping you could help!" She said hurriedly.

Of course she was having trouble, he had caused it. Last week he'd given the Black Flags a prime opportunity to rape a senior member of the group, not that he would have let them. Even he had _some _ethics after all, though they were few and far between. He supposed it came from a silly sentimentality brought on by being an older brother, or maybe because he'd found such an event distasteful at best; some things he just would not allow to go on. But this week he'd been giving the Raider's main rivals, the Cyan Laces, all the information they needed to take territory, hit the Raider's marks and even hospitalize a few of the heavy hitting members. Now the tables would turn at his whim.

"What's the problem? Is Juri giving you problems again?" Came his inaccurate guess.

Sumi gave a quick glance around the crowded street, trying to pick out any trace of the telltale color she dreaded. "The Laces have been hitting us harder than ever," she confided as if it were a secret, but than to her it was. "They've gotten way too close to our base the last couple of days and nearly crippled two of my best friends!"

"It couldn't have been that bad, could it?" He asked sounding hopeful.

"The doctor said Ruka will be lucky if she can ever use her arm again!" Sumi declared heatedly, the blush receding and giving way to sheer hatred.

Izaya stopped purposefully, a carefully laid grimace of shock working its way over his face. He'd seen the reports, several fractures in the girl's arm, nothing as grave as Sumi implied but it was still best to pretend he cared for the time being.

"I'm so sorry," he lied.

"It isn't your fault." She said and he fought back the laugh in his throat.

Izaya nodded sympathetically and placed a kind hand on her arm; the rage slowly returned to the blush, a subtle pink just dusting her cheeks now.

"I think I can help," he said with a tender squeeze to her shoulder. "I'll see if I can't get you their location, maybe even find their base and help you take them out for good." He paused thoughtfully, his hand still lingering upon her so he could watch that her blush go from a smudge of pink across her nose to a crimson that spread to her entire face. It was still boring. "Unless you want to try for a peaceful solution?"

He knew her answer before she spat it out with petty venom. "No, they get to pay for what they did to my friends."

"If that's how you feel, Sumi, than I won't try to persuade you otherwise." His hand slipped away and fell into his pocket to clutch his phone; it must have been nearly time now.

"Thank you so much. What will it be this time, Izaya? I think we've managed to get a hold of your usual fee, but I know this is a lot to ask for …" she trailed off, unsure.

Izaya gave her a charismatic smile. "This will be on the house. Like I said, you are my favorite girls, and I hate to see you all worried like this."

Sumi looked so delighted that for a moment he thought she might scream in joy. He was grateful when she kept what little cool she had, humorous as her reaction might have been.

"Just do a tiny favor for me?" He added.

"Anything." Oh yes, he knew she meant that personally.

"Don't kill anyone. I know you heard about that mess not too long ago between a couple of the other gangs, and I'd hate to hear that you or any of the Raiders got arrested. It would break my heart to see any of you in prison."

He knew none of the Raiders were violent enough to kill, most weren't even capable of winning a standard fist-fight, but his words would work to spur on the girl's delusions of his affections for her group or, more importantly, her.

His phone vibrated against his hand as the hour turned and alerted him of his next engagement, one with less predictable results than this lackluster exchange. Actually, that gave him an idea on how to spice up his little meeting with the enamored girl.

"I fear our time together is up and I've got to head towards my next engagement," he told her as the smallest of smirks began to curl the edges of his mouth. "Would you like to walk me there?"

She looked like he's just proposed marriage, and he may have well had. Everything between them had been professional despite every wanton glance or overzealous smile that she gave him, each action about as subtle as a neon sign in the dark. He expected her to think this invitation marked the beginning of a beautiful relationship that ended with her taking over the city with him as her loving boyfriend. Oh how desperately he wanted to pop that bubble of hers and let reality rain down. Not yet, he told himself as they started back down the street together.

They turned a corner together, Sumi hovering closer than he usually allowed and her hand brushing against his on occasion as if it would pull it from his pocket, when his destination came into sight.

As he had expected Yrsa was at her favored café, and again he was surprised when she had company. It wasn't her alleged sister, it wasn't even human, but a large, black bird with patches of white covering its chest and folded wings. The thing was perched on the back of the chair closest to the woman, hopping around merrily as the foreigner fed it scraps of a croissant. The nearer he and Sumi drew, the more wonderfully bizarre the situation got; Yrsa was chatting with the bird as if it understood the strange, slurring language that poured from her lips.

He stopped not far away to admire the situation, vaguely wondering how she had gotten that oversized crow to be so social when the bird turned suddenly and cawed angrily at him, bouncing around its post as if protecting its clutch.

"Stop your crowing," Yrsa snapped to the thing, returning to the local language when her company changed species.

Izaya laughed, Sumi took a step back as if the insanity was catching, and the bird turned to the blonde as if it had been betrayed. It cawed again, hopping closer to the woman and rustling its feathers. Yrsa frowned and swatted at the bird to shoo it. It let out another angry caw, grabbed the rest of her croissant in its beak and flew off.

"That's what you get for feeding the wildlife," Izaya chuckled and closed in on her table.

For a moment she regarded him quizzically as if to ask what wildlife he referred to, but the look melted away into a smile as she relaxed back into her chair. Then those icy eyes moved over to the girl halfway hidden behind the broker, still looking at the woman as if she were crazy for conversing with a bird. He certainly hoped she was a little crazy. That sort of erratic behavior always lead to good times.

"Your girlfriend?" Yrsa guessed, gesturing at Sumi and not bothering to hide a little pout of jealousy. "She's cute. But I can't say I'm not disappointed that I won't be able to have you for myself, Izaya-chan."

"N-no I'm not-" Sumi stumbled to explain.

Damn, he'd hoped they would start something; women were always hilarious when they fought, especially over a man, _especially _when that man was a god beyond their feeble reach. He should have predicted that Sumi would have subdued herself rather than tearing into the woman and risk giving him a bad impression.

"Sumi-chan, is my very good friend," Izaya said for her; she looked like she might faint, either because of his declaration or that he had finally used the cuter title for her.

Yrsa on the other hand laughed into her coffee cup, a pungently sweet aroma wafting from it just like before. He wondered if the chuckle was because she had seen through his words again. It was a curious trait that had him questioning what he could get away with.

"Funny, I didn't expect you to have friends," Yrsa said glancing between the two. A knowing smirk grew over her lips that managed to make him nervous, an unfamiliar and altogether unpleasant feeling.

Thankfully she didn't comment more on the subject, instead asking, "I expect you're here to question me again?" She glanced back at Sumi with a cocky glimmer in her eye. "Or you and your 'friend' busy?"

"Actually, you're my next appointment. Sumi-chan was just kind enough to keep me company while I walked over," Izaya said casting a thankful look to the teen as he slid into the seat that the bird had occupied. "I'll to you soon, Sumi-chan, please take care until then."

Sumi smiled sweetly and bounced off down the street. Once she was far enough away, Yrsa burst into a fit of laughter.

"You're so mean," she sniggered into her hand. "Making that girl think she has a chance."

"And what makes you think she doesn't?" Izaya tried just to see if he could fool her.

"You don't strike me as the commitment type. And you should know from our last chat that it's harder to fool me, but good try, you might get it one day." She smiled and finished her drink. "So, you wanted to ask me something?"

"Yes, about that light," he said.

"And told you before-"

He interrupted her. "I remember, you said you didn't see anything, but I think you know something despite your earlier statement."

"And what makes you think my answer will have changed now?" She asked, leaning on her elbow and staring at his face unabashedly. "You really are good-looking. Shame you aren't interested."

If she was expecting to throw him off it wouldn't work. He ignored the appreciated flattery and pressed on, "From what I understand you owe a sizable debt to some people."

"Yep," she said uncaringly. "What's your point?"

"Doesn't it bother you to owe them? To know that any second something could happen that would keep you from being able to pay it off? What if you broke your leg and couldn't work? What if your dear 'sister' was mugged when delivering the next payment? If you think about it, any number of terrible things could happen to make you lose your home and have debt collectors after you like hounds."

"Seriously? That's your plan?" She sighed dramatically and leaned back into her chair. "Blackmail is _so _unattractive. And what's worse is that it's clichéd. Couldn't you at least come up with something more creative? Like threaten to get me fired by spreading the rumor that I moonlight as a prostitute? I mean, I certainly look the part." She laughed and gestured to her ample form and the less than ample clothing covering it.

And here he had hoped to scare some information out of her, but instead she decided to turn his threats into a joke. And yes, he'd admit it hadn't been one of his more creative plans, but what could he had little idea on how to force her hand? He could always learn what made her tick firsthand. In fact, given her comments that might be exactly what she wanted. It was worth a shot.

"What can I do to make you talk to me, Yrsa-chan?" He inquired sweetly. "I want to know more about you."

"Ooh, you're telling the truth," she said in joy. "How bizarre. As much as I'd _love_ for you to get to know me," there was so much innuendo in her tone that it was painful, "I'm afraid you can't."

She just couldn't make this simple. Too bad for her that he enjoyed challenges. Her refusal was practically an invitation for him to delve into her background and pull every sordid detail to the surface.

"You were honest though, even if it was for just a moment, so I _suppose _I can be generous and throw you a bone," she decreed in a way he found only too familiar. "Just so you know, I really didn't see anything when that light appeared. I wasn't looking up at the time. But, I do know what it was."

He couldn't tell if she was lying or not, but it was worth prodding her further. "And what was it?" He asked.

"A soul departing for heaven, or at least a version of it, but which one is for you to figure out. You're smart, so I think you'll manage without my help."

"That isn't much to go on," he tried.

She hummed in consideration. "Alright, but only because you're cute. The soul normally wouldn't have gone there, but he met all the right conditions. Now, I've given you more than enough hints for an easy puzzle, so now I'd like you to indulge me for a second."

"What's that?" He asked playfully, already sorting through solutions to her puzzle.

She pointed across the street to a vending machine. "Just look over there for now, you'll know when to stop."

He was curious now. Would something happen? With a scoff, he half-expected the machine to be lifted into the air and for Shizu-chan to be hurdling it towards him. Instead the warm press of lips was upon his cheek, the telltale smack of a kiss sounding in his ear as she pulled away and scraped her chair across the cement.

"That was fun, we should do this again real soon," Yrsa chirped and hopped out of her seat. She twirled around and gave him a wink, "see you around, Izaya-chan."

She really didn't understand subtlety, he decided when he watched her walk down the street with a literal skip in her step and a sway to her hips that was so magnetic it drew an unhealthy amount of stares from passersby. He leaned back in his chair, considering what she had told him as she sauntered away.

So, the light was a departing soul gone to a heaven where it didn't belong. If that was the truth than how did she know that? He had to consider the victim, a Crimson Head that had drawn the Razors' attention and let his comrades escape. How noble of him, Izaya mused to himself, the honorable sacrifice. He stopped himself as the thought occurred to him, mocking as it had been. That was it, or at least a very good possibility.

It hadn't been as simple as a gangster dying that night; he'd suffered a warrior's death, and warriors went somewhere _very _special, but only if certain conditions were met. To think that a Japanese youth could ascend to Valhalla while in his native lands and outside of war was impossible. Unless there a Valkyrie was in the area. Was it that simple, was what he'd been searching for been right under his nose for the last three months? The more he thought about it the more sense it made.

An Icelandic woman in the area when the light had erupted into the sky, her knowledge of the event and of the gangster's death, and even her speaking with that bird– a raven, not a crow, he now realized, the classic familiar for a Viking's warrior angel. She was right, it had been a simple puzzle, but what she couldn't have anticipated was that she was exactly the creature he'd been looking for when starting this war. What a perfect backup she had provided him.

The war would continue as planned, it was just too much fun to stop now. But now if Celty's head didn't wake from the resulting chaos than he had insurance. While Yrsa had proven difficult to get a read on, he was certain he could win her over, not that he expected it to be hard when she was so eager to throw herself at him. The only obstacle would be in how to convince her, but even that would be a simple enough task when he had a trail to follow.

Izaya lifted himself and pranced off down the road, giddy at the turn of events. It was a short enough walk to his apartment, but he could barely wait to get there and see what he could dig up that would force the Valkyrie to his side. And he would have her.

* * *

Congratulations, Izaya, ya figured out one of the great mysteries plaguing Ikebukuro. If I had any gold stars to hand out I would definitely give you one. And I realized as I was editing this, but Yrsa is kind of a slut. XD This'll be an interesting relationship to be sure, but after considering her character I realize I may have to change the rating due to her 'eccentricities'.

Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed and please leave a review if you did. Until next time, fair thee well!


	6. Chapter 6

Thank you Skooter918 for the favorite and the follow, and thank you Warriorman199456 and Awesomer than you for reviewing again. Anyways, I feel I must apologize, this chapter took me longer to write up and is shorter than the rest, and aside from that, I freaking hate it. Quite a bit. It was a nightmare that took four different revisions and a bout of illness to concoct, and I still don't think it's very good. Now, all of my bitching aside, I hope you guys can enjoy it. Onwards to literary adventure!

-Chapter 6-

Izaya pranced across the main room of his apartment. Excitement wasn't really the word for what he was feeling, more a mixture of exhilaration from what he'd learned and an intense desire to read over whatever Namie had uncovered during his trip to Ikebukuro. The woman was mysteriously absent from his home as he danced his way to his desk, the only sign of her earlier presence the thin stack of papers laid across his keyboard.

Upon closer inspection, he realized the pile wasn't really much of a stack, only four sheets of paper, three of which detailed Yrsa's school transcripts and the fourth being the only financial transactions that his secretary had been able to hunt down. It wasn't much to go on but he's certainly dealt with less, and with his skillful mind back on the trail he was certain much more would surface soon.

He glanced at the page of financials, disappointed when he read over the dozen or so lines that recorded the woman's last three months. At the top lay the debt to Tom Tanaka, a few annotations underneath that showed each payment that had done little to lower the total. Beneath the lines of debt lay the records of her rent, the same price the last three months coupled with the fluctuation of utilities. But there were no grocery bills, no receipts for clothes or furniture, not even a bill to a saloon. There were no financial records at all for what women her age generally charged on little pieces of plastic. Either the woman was taking handouts for food and clothing, or she was very careful about not leaving a paper trail behind, easily avoided with payouts of cash. Even the last venture on the page seemed to have been paid out of pocket, two tickets in Yrsa's name for a boat sailing out of Hong Kong just before she had arrived in Japan, and that only seemed to have documentation because identification papers would have been required.

Now _that _was more interesting than the thought of a paranoid foreigner– mythic creature or not –afraid to leave traces of her existence. If he had to guess, Mashi had been the recipient of that second ticket, but why couldn't she have produced her own identification instead of having Yrsa purchase two? And why would officials have allowed for one passenger to have two tickets? The answer wasn't so difficult to grasp, but the reasoning for it eluded him.

It would have been more expensive their way, a bribe no doubt having come into play to keep Mashi's name out of the entire affair. But why do it? He was starting to wonder if it was Mashi's paranoia and not Yrsa's that had them acting with such vigilance. But he could theorize later, the tickets from the Chinese coast his last breadcrumb to follow for now.

The woman's transcripts were more telling, but only fractionally. In eighteen years, Yrsa had changed schools nearly a dozen times, in almost as many countries. Primary school entirely in Iceland, and then she'd bounced around England and Ireland for part of middle school only to finish up the rest in Canada. Her high school career was even more varied, the first two years spread out across parts of the United States, eventually– and to his complete surprise –landing in Japan and graduating from a Meiou Academy down in Kyoto. Where she went from there was a mystery, six years between her graduation and now.

It was a bizarre puzzle, one he intended to piece together quickly to ensure his prize and retrain his focus on his war. He was just beginning to sift through her extracurricular activities when the front door opened and Namie strolled in, her arms laden with grocery bags.

"Namie," he began, "I thought I told you to look up Yrsa _and_ Mashi. So why do I only have one profile? I was certain a woman of your intelligence would have been able to find much more in the time I gave you."

She walked to the kitchen nook and started putting things away, not reacting to the barb. Even if he couldn't push her buttons that way he would get his answer.

"Well?" He pressed. "Were you simply not up to the task?" He grinned. "Oh I know, I should consider this a sick day and dock your pay."

The can of coffee froze between her hand and the cabinet, but only for a moment before sliding into place. "You told me to look up Yrsa and Mashi Guðrúdóttir, and I did that."

"So why is there only information on Yrsa?" He repeated, becoming bored with the circular conversation and aware that that might have been the woman's intention all along.

"Like I said, you told me to look up Mashi Guðrúdóttir. There simply wasn't anyone with that name," she coolly remarked from the open refrigerator. "There was a Mashi Toriyama, but that wasn't the task so I ignored it," she snipped.

What a pleasant development. Not for a moment had he really believed there would be a Mashi Guðrúdóttir in the system, after all Yrsa and Mashi were no more related that he and Simon were. But for such an unusual first name to appear in the search… well, that was something worth looking into.

He turned to his computer and ignored the woman as she finished with the groceries. It only took a few minutes to find who Namie had referred to, Toriyama having attended the same schools as Yrsa since after primary school, and while there was no picture attached to the transcript he was almost positive that this was the same Mashi that his nemesis was pinning away for.

A little more digging exposed an image of the girl from her sixth year of school, a much younger version of Yrsa'a alleged sister, but undeniably her. Again, Izaya had an unpleasant sense of familiarity as he looked on at the photo of the scowling girl. Where the hell did he know her from?

The answer came to him in a very unorthodox way more than an hour later while he concentrated on other things to clear his mind of the problem. He'd sent out a few lines earlier, trying to see what he could discover about the Valkyrie from a few of his more resourceful employees, when he'd found a message from the Awakusu in one of his inboxes. It was nothing out of the ordinary, just another of their requests to find someone that had landed on the syndicate's wanted list, a man that would be more appreciated dead than alive. The request wasn't of interest to him though, it was the spark of memory that the man's photo and number his life amounted to that got his attention.

He turned his sights to older files, documents from the years previous that he had catalogued and stored rather than destroyed, and he found what he was looking for in a folder that dated back all the way to his final days at Raira. The original e-mail was in Russian and transcribed into several other languages including Japanese and French, asking for any information on one Marya Petrova, wanted by the Cherenchikov Family, dead or alive for reasons that weren't disclosed in the notice. The photo attached was of a girl in her mid-teens with long black hair and bright amber eyes who didn't look at all Icelandic but was currently and undeniably masquerading around the city as such. What a delicious, damning secret he'd uncovered.

But, if he was completely honest, this raised even more questions. Sure, if Mashi had a hit on her from the Russian mafia than that might answer why she went by another name, going so far as to claim kinship with a foreigner. So what hold did Mashi have on Yrsa that made her go along with the farce? And _why _was she being hunted? What could she have done as a teenager to have pissed off such a powerful and dangerous organization? What could it be, what could it be?! There was so much to learn, so much to uncover. It was too much. He wanted answers, needed them, so badly he was sent into a fit of uproarious laughter as impossible scenarios danced across his mind.

Izaya calmed after a time, Namie staring on at him with thinly veiled anxiety since his manic outburst. Mashi was just a side note for now, a fascinating story to dissect another day. He had to focus on the Valkyrie, his inquiries having revealed only the smallest of details about her life, not nearly enough to force her hand or even let him bluff, not that he thought he could where she was concerned. His best bet now would be to follow her movements more closely, collect intel from coworkers, friends, and the like, try to find something that he could use against her.

Until that time came, he had a nice little game to play with the monster. With a wicked grin he sent the old e-mail branding Mashi a criminal to Shizuo, after all it was only fair he knew what kind of woman he was dating.


	7. Chapter 7

Thank you to WarriorMan199456 and Awesomer than you for reviewing again, you guys are fantastic. Also, thank you Nadeshiko291210 for following the story. On a semi-related note, thank you... somebody for adding this to the Strangers in Ikebukuro community, however that works. I was surprised to see that and flattered, even if I don't really understand how the communities work, it was very nice though. Anyways, I enjoyed this chapter, it was fun and we finally get some of Yrsa's mindset and Izaya may or may not be starting to get those terrible feels all the kids are talking about these days. Hope you all enjoy, please review if you do. Ciao!

-Chapter 7-

Time passed so slowly that night that it seemed not to move at all, the droning tick of the clock daring her to turn and check the pair of hands that seemed cemented over the two and the twelve. Yrsa finally gave in to temptation and glanced back, unable to ignore the tap of the second hand; a full minutes had passed since she lasted check the time. A groan escaped her and she wished desperately for an end to this monotony, or at least a distraction from the fluorescent lights and dull hum of the refrigerators as she stood guard of the cashier's counter.

Not even ten minutes later– and she knew because she continued to compulsively check the clock –her phone went off, the sweetest sound she could think of to occupy her dissatisfied mind. But then she had to wonder who would be calling her at two in the morning. Her answer was a panicking Mashi on the other end of a payphone because she couldn't own a cell phone.

"Yrsa, something bad happened," Mashi said, he voice shaking like a leaf, "we have to move."

Shit. They'd only been there for three months, how had Mashi been found already? They'd been playing it safe, trying to at least. They'd smuggled Mashi into the country to avoid papers and hadn't used her real name when anyone had asked, the apartment and the loan to pay if off had both been taken out in Yrsa's name, and everything they had bought had been paid for in cash. Maybe Mashi was just overreacting, it wasn't completely unheard of given her severe and rightly earned paranoia.

"Calm down, Mashi," Yrsa gently soothed in her native tongue, just in case. "Tell me what happened."

"Don't treat me like a child!" Mashi snarled so harshly that the line crackled, her Russian slur coming out in her fear. "Someone knows is what happened. I was hanging out with Shizuo when he got this text; it was the wanted poster that _she _put out when we were in high school."

Yrsa almost dropped the phone. Okay, this _was_ bad. She swallowed the growing knot in her throat managing to wedge it instead in her chest.

"And what happened next?" Yrsa tried, pleased at least that her friend was following the same precaution of a foreign tongue.

"He showed me his phone and asked me what that was and why someone put a price on my head." There was a long pause between them. Even over the phone, Yrsa could sense the shame on her friend, not from her ability but from knowing her as a sister.

"And?" Yrsa pressed.

"I jumped out of his window," she said flatly.

The sharp slap of a hand landed on Yrsa's mouth to contain a giggle. This was serious, she shouldn't be laughing when her friend was in danger. But out a window? Seriously?

"Damn it, don't laugh," Mashi growled, her perception of her friend just as innately sharp.

"So you jumped out a window?" Yrsa asked, stiffening as a group of adults came into sight. She relaxed once they'd passed the wall of glass that separated her from the night. "What then?"

"He jumped after me and chased me until it got dark enough for me to disappear." She sounded impressed by the man's dedication. "I'm hiding out on the west side of town right now since he could find out apartment, I'm sure Tom's got records of that."

"Probably. Wait, have you just been wandering around town since it got dark?"

"Yeah. I had trouble finding a payphone and enough change to make a call." That was just code for pickpocketing and Yrsa knew it, not that she didn't approve during these types of situations. "Can I come to the store and wait until your shift is over?" Mashi's voice was so uncharacteristically small and scared that it made her heart clench.

"Sure, no problem. Just stick to the shadows and stay safe alright? I'll see you in a little while."

Mashi hang up without a goodbye, an irritating quirk that Yrsa wasn't about to complain about given the danger that Mashi was in. Those few seconds wasted on parting words could cost Mashi her life if the situation was as dire as Mashi believed.

A plastic smile graced Yrsa's lips as the bell on the front door chimed and a young man with a gray and purple beanie sauntered into the store like he owned it. She greeted him with composed glee. He ignored her and wandered over to aisle of snacks that faced the liquor case. With the customer out of sight, she was able to focus on the problem at hand.

Mashi was in danger now. Not from Shizuo of course, he was too loyal and love-struck to threaten the fragile stability of their lives. But he wasn't the only person who knew. There was the person that had sent the text to Shizuo, whoever that was. It could be anyone, someone with ties to the Cherenchikov Family, a bounty hunter that had managed to track them across Europe and Asia, or someone that was just very well-connected. But why send the poster to Shizuo? What would that accomplish? No bounty hunter or member of the mafia would give out that juicy piece of information and risk losing the substantial reward attached. That meant this was personal on some level. Was it a warning to him about the girl he was seeing? A cruel prank?

Her thoughts halted, remembering a conversation she'd had not too long ago. There was an information broker, one that had sought her out more than once, and had a penchant for mischief of all sorts. There was mischief and then there was plain maliciousness, and this seemed to be the latter of the two. He had told her that he was an information broker, but did Izaya have that sort of pull?

The bell chimed again. Speak of the devil, the very man she'd been thinking of. Yrsa's mind raced, trying to decide how to handle the situation as Izaya stepped over the threshold. She didn't want to confront him if she was wrong, especially when there was a customer loitering in the back of the store to overhear it all; a needling sensation in her gut told her she wasn't wrong.

She decided to feign ignorance, plastering a painfully fake smile across her face. "Izaya-chan, it's good to see you. What brings you here this time of night?"

"I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd come visit you at work." He was lying, she felt it easily, staining his spirit like murky ink. One of the perks of being a judge of the dead, she thought sardonically. "Your boss must be furious with you to have called you in on your day off. And to think, you're scheduled to work tomorrow afternoon too."

His intimate knowledge of her schedule was more disturbing than it was shocking, Yrsa reminding herself of his occupation. Still, she let her mouth fall open in a practiced gape.

"How did you know where I work?" She questioned. He didn't answer so she let the silence drag on, trying to look thoughtful when she knew the answer. "Oh yeah, info broker you said?"

Displeasure at the speed of her deduction flickered across his eyes for but a moment, the mirth returning to them within seconds. Good, he needed to think she was an idiot if her bluff was to work.

"It's very nice for you to visit, but I'm afraid I'm not in much of a mood to chat," she told him.

Izaya tilted his head to the side like a curious child, one that was obnoxiously cute, but she couldn't let his good looks distract her tonight, fun as it would have been to start spinning filthy fantasies with him there.

"What's wrong?" He was genuinely curious. Strange, she hadn't thought there was anything genuine about the perpetually grinning man.

Yrsa's eyes dropped to the floor, half hooded to make her sorrow look all the more real. "I'm going to have to move soon," she explained quietly, as if speaking about it aloud would make the act come sooner.

She sensed… a confused sort of anxiety in him, like he didn't know what to do with the emotion. She had to bite her tongue to fight the grin trying to have its way with her mouth.

"And why are you going to move, Yrsa-chan?" He prodded.

She allowed the silence to hang between them again, careful to shift slightly on her feet and glance at everything but him. Her bright blue eyes eventually landed on him but she continued to fidget, touching her face and tugging on her hair and shirt to add to the façade of anxiety.

Izaya grinned at her and she knew he was truly amused. She got a sinking feeling that he wasn't falling for the act and was instead entertained by it. If he couldn't be tricked as easily as the men she'd dealt with in the past, things could get very interesting, maybe even bloody. She opened her mouth to finally respond but he beat her to the punch.

"I'm impressed," he admitted truthfully. "That drama club in high school must have really paid off, or you're just a natural at deception." He gestured at her generous curves. "Or maybe it's just your other assets."

A smirk curved her lips, both impressed and a little bitter that he'd called her out. She leaned forward on the counter and dropped the act, pushing her face closer to his. If she kissed him what would he do? Maybe another time, she decided, returning to the problem at hand.

"Sounds like I have a little fan," she replied haughtily, flattered by his interest rather than perturbed by it. "Just what else do you know about me?"

He listed of details of her life like she were a rare and fascinating creature and he a biologist. How droll of him, to consider her nothing more than a subject to study, though it raised a question of why he would be so invested in her to begin with.

"So what you're telling me," she huffed with a roll of her eyes, "is that you don't know a damn thing about me personally, just the places I've been and schools I've attended. That's so boring. Come on, didn't you find anything good? A list of lovers or favorite positions?"

To her grave disappointment, he didn't flinch or even blush under her suggestions; a shame, he was probably cute when he blushed. Instead he grinned and sunnily declared, "There was _one_ little secret I came across."

She leaned in eagerly, more to watch the customer stuffing a package of melon bread into his coat than to seduce her conquest. "Ooh, was it something elicit?"

He leaned forward now, nearly brushing her nose with his. "Not quite. I learned that you're a very special creature: a Valkyrie."

Yrsa erupted into laughter, having to pull back so she didn't cackle straight in his face. The accusation was ridiculous and troubling because it was true. How he had managed to divine that, well, she had some idea, she had given him enough hints earlier that day. Too many, she realized now. She had underestimated his intelligence, or at least his knowledge of Icelandic folklore. She may have been unable to trick him before, but now it was imperative.

"That is the funniest thing I've ever heard," she said through her fit. "What, did I match a picture on the internet? I've got news for you, _a lot_ of women could. Or was it because I'm Icelandic?"

Izaya hummed, a smug smile gracing his features. "True, a lot of the pictures are of tall, blonde woman, but I doubt so many matching that description would have been able to identify that light in the sky."

So they were back at that again. She could work with that. "Me and anyone else that knows that old tales. My mother is a professor of folklore for God's sake, you really think I would see a big pillar of light and think it was aliens instead?"

He was prepared for her excuses, her attention switching between him and the shoplifter making another round through the store.

"A fair point," he admitted. "So how did you know what kind of person it was that died that night?"

That was a little trickier to explain. She gestured around the store. "I work in a convenience store. I get to hear all sorts of gossip as a result. For example, did you know that the Sons of Kai are going to attack a warehouse in Razor territory tomorrow night while the Razors are out on what they call 'panty patrol'? Or that the Crimson Heads are all related? Or that a bunch of them came in crying, mostly literally, about how their brother or cousin or nephew was killed? Apparently this kid was a real stand up gangster, protective of his family, willing to sacrifice himself and go down swinging. If that isn't enough to go to Valhalla than I don't know what is."

For a brief moment he was surprised though he didn't show it. "You do hear a lot. Maybe I should hire you out of this place."

She chuckled and shook her head. "Sorry but no. I have to move remember?"

"So you said. Why exactly do you have to move?"

"You know an awful lot about me, what about my sister?" She plowed ahead, not giving him time to answer. "Well, I'm sure you know we aren't actually related, but that isn't the point here. You see, someone did something that threatened my sister, and I would do anything to protect her, like move all over the world so certain violent, awful people can't find her."

"Why not leave her to her own devices?" His question was calm, but his spirit was pleading somehow, desperately hopeful like the dying man trying to bargain for his life.

"She's my dear sweet sister, and I could never abandon her. I will protect her at all costs even if I have to kill for her, and I absolutely abhor murderers. I really wish we could stay though, I was so enjoying this town." Her eyes bore into his. "But it seems someone wants us leaving. I'm sure you don't know anything about that. Right, Izaya-chan?"

He looked pensive, the gears turning in that slippery mind of his. "If I were to guess, I would say whoever threatened her did so as a prank, not at her, but at the monster she's dating."

"Why, that would be a terrible thing to do. I would hope they amend their mistake so she and I can stay in this town," Yrsa replied coolly, holding her hard gaze to his.

"I guess they'll have to. It'd be such a shame if they managed to scare off a Valkyrie."

Yrsa sighed in exasperation. "I told you, I'm not a Valkyrie."

"Oh I think you are. And you aren't allowed to leave until I get you to admit it." There was a strange, possessive quality to his words, more like that of a child hording his toys than a grown man speaking about a woman.

"And why do you care so much about Valkyries?" She asked.

"Because they can give me exactly what I want."

"Sweetheart, I could give you _all _sorts of things you don't even know you want yet," she flirted audaciously.

Damn it! She _would _make him blush! But that would have to come later because now she had a shoplifter trying to escape. She excused herself from the conversation and hopped over the counter, hurried over to the man and stopped him with a strong hand on his shoulder.

"I'll ask you to please return the items in your pockets and stuffed down your pants, sir," Yrsa said sweetly at first.

When he denied the accusation, she was forced to rip a can of Pocari from his coat pocket. And when he swung at her to avoid his misdeeds, he found his face smashed into the cold linoleum floor with both arms twisted around his back, Izaya laughing hysterically from beside the counter, utter surprise lighting up his soul.

"Izaya-chan," Yrsa cooed in a singsong voice, "would you be a sweetie pie and call the cops? Normally I'd let idiots like him go with a warning, but since I have a witness…well, that just wouldn't do would it?"

The broker controlled his laughter, if only just, and shook his head at the pair on the floor. "I'm afraid I have a much more pressing engagement. You want that misunderstanding cleared up after all, don't you?" He headed for the door, stepping over them when he easily could have gone around.

"I do but– you aren't just going to leave are you? At least call the cops first!" She shouted while the man under her complained and struggled; she smashed his face against the grout hard enough for a thin red puddle to ooze across the white flooring.

"I think you've got everything under control, Yrsa-chan," Izaya laughed, twirling around to face her and playfully poking her nose. "To think, such a pretty thing like you could take a Purple Stripe down."

Funny, he wasn't lying when his first compliment to her appearance had been just that. Maybe she was growing on him, or maybe he had a thing for angels. Weirdo.

Izaya strolled out into the early morning air, leaving Yrsa to hold the struggling thief down. She had to admit, the man had fight in him, but not the good kind. She could sense petty hatred and cruelty, the type of coward to kick people when they were down; he was a bully if she had to guess, and this probably wasn't the first store that he'd hit up. It would definitely be his last if Yrsa had anything to say about it.

Mashi arrive not long after Izaya had left, the thief sporting a broken hand from his struggle in addition to his smashed nose, and finally, _finally _Yrsa was able to summon the police and mop up the red stain across her otherwise pristine floor.


	8. Chapter 8

Sorry for the lateness everyone! Thank you WarriorMan199456 and Awesomer than you for reviews, and thank you INSANEProduction for the fave and follow. Onward!

-Chapter 8-

It had been a good day, both for the brewing war and for Izaya's twisted joy. First of all, the Cyan Laces were out of the picture. Their last hideout had been taken by Sumi and her crew only a few hours ago and he imagined they were settling in nicely. The vacuum of power in the area would be noticed quickly by the Black Flags and Sons of K.A.I. but he had already advised the girls on how to deal with those two groups. Secondly, the Razors were doing well in pushing out some of the Crimson Heads from their territories. Of course, Shinji wouldn't have a complete advantage with Izaya feeding the Heads' leader info, but the boy didn't need to know that. For the next couple of days they could fight it out and divide their numbers enough until Shinji came back to him for more help, and he would be so happy to provide it as well as the revelation about his sweet sister, the Rose Raider. The last thing to put the wicked smile on his face was more personal: Mashi and Shizuo were meeting for their first date. It was a monumental occasion that he'd be sure to ruin for no reason other than to destroy any chance the brutish man had at happiness. It was sure to be a blast.

After mocking Shizuo about the text message, convincing him it was all a clever forgery to scare off the monster's girlfriend because he didn't deserve any joy in his bothersome existence, Mashi had forgiven her monster and gone back to him, skittishly at first. The dumb beast had believed him and even attacked him for the supposed deceit. It was only a few hours later that he had learned of Yrsa's own intervention and continuous pushing that caused Mashi to return to her brutish companion. Izaya was still curious about the bounty on Mashi, but he was willing to shelve that until he could catch the Valkyrie in his web and keep her. Once Yrsa's loyalty was assured he was certain that he could dig up and expose whatever he wanted about the Russian fugitive, a task he was already looking forward to. For now he could settle with poking the beast and watching him berserk in front of his lady love.

The sun was setting quickly, the end of summer giving way to an early, crescent moon and pleasantly cool weather, the perfect night for a date. Or the perfect night to interfere with one, he thought gleefully, skipping down the side of the road. Mid-hop the excited anthem of his cell phone let out a muffled cry against the wall of his pocket. Strange, he wasn't expecting a call and had no idea who it was.

Still moving– though the skip had been reduced to a simple walk –he slid open his phone to see a text from Yrsa of all people. _That _was enough to get him to stop entirely, his curiosity piqued.

Had she finally come to her senses and decided to reveal her true nature to him? Or was it another flirt, a proposition she offered to get between his sheets? The latter thought was more likely, the woman having sent a couple such messages since he'd allowed her to have his number the previous day when he'd 'happened upon her' when she headed to work. He was still intrigued, despite the majority of her messages having content so lewd he had to wonder at what jobs she'd had before moving back to Japan.

_Hi Izaya-chan. There's something I'd like to talk to you about. Please meet me at the new building going up for Poison Cherry Records. It's on the Kanda River but I'm sure you knew that. 3_

An interesting proposal, and much tamer than usual. What was important enough to make her drop all her promiscuous pretenses? Whatever the meaning behind her message, he found it much more interesting than the prospect of a few laughs at his most hated acquaintance. He hailed a taxi and quietly sat in the back for the next ten minutes of traffic and every red light conceivable, his mind swirling with different ideas behind the text.

It was completely dark when the cab dropped Izaya off in front of the skeletal building that would be the Poison Cherry Records new headquarters. A single streetlight illuminated the moonless night as he approached the doorway gated by wide lengths of chain-link fencing. His phone buzzed from inside his pocket; it was Yrsa again.

_Was that you that got out of the taxi?_

Where was she that she could see him?

Izaya looked around the empty street not finding her in any of the long shadows beyond the halo of light he stood within. When he determined he was alone he took the next logical step and looked up. While he couldn't see anything passed the empty second story windows, he got a feeling that the woman awaited him atop the half finished building. He sent her a quick message that told her he'd be up soon.

It wasn't easy getting inside, a small opening cut in the fence just wide enough for him to slip through was his only entrance and had presumably been Yrsa's, or at least one she'd left if she had decided to scale the building on wing. From there he needed the bright light of his cellphone to guide him along an uncarpeted floor of chipped and chalk-marked cement until he found the stairwell that would take him to the top. Unsurprisingly, the heavy door to the roof was unlocked. Izaya pushed out and was met with a blast of cool night air and semi-darkness, the Tokyo skyline silhouetting the high curb that ran the length around the roof; atop the curb a female figure danced dangerously close to the edge.

"So glad you could make it, Izaya-chan," Yrsa chirped as she performed a slow pirouette, his eyes beginning to adjust so he could just make out the shadows of her face as she stop her routine to face him. "I'd have thought for sure you would rather be ruining Mashi's date with Shizuo, and that just isn't very nice."

So, she knew about that. It made sense, they were living together after all and she would be aware of her friend's movements. But the fact that she had realized what _he_ would do put a smile on his face. Was he that obvious, at least to her?

"Why do that when I could spend time with you instead, Yrsa-chan?" Izaya goaded. He made out her grin in the dim.

"I'm flattered, really I am," she said haughtily. "But I didn't ask you here for that. Something just _horrible_ has come to my attention, and I thought you should know."

He stepped closer and asked from arm's length away, "And what's so terrible than you could only tell me up here?"

"Oh, I could have told you anywhere, but this way you're not intruding on that date I mentioned. Aren't I the nice sister to keep you away?" She was just stalling for time now, and maybe that had been her intent to begin with, to keep him away until Shizuo and Mashi were finished with their date. No, that was too clever.

"My problem is that I like you– unfortunate as that is." Yrsa began her dance anew after her confession. "I mean, you think I'm some mythical beast that can ferry souls off to some realm beyond mortal reach. I know that delusion in you, yet you're constantly on my mind like I'm some juvenile with a silly crush. Such a shame, you'd ever go out with me."

Izaya took another step closer as she danced on the concrete to a routine only she knew. He was just a few inches away now. "And why would you think that?" He inquired innocently.

"You aren't the commitment type, I'm sure," she laughed mirthlessly without facing him. It shocked him that she was so bitter at the thought. He'd had girls like him before, usually not women her age, or those few like Namie that with a little luck could figure out what games he was playing. And here Yrsa was pouting like a child because her affections weren't returned. He was certain her feelings were genuine unlike with Sumi who he had manipulate love from.

"I wouldn't mind dating you," he said and was shocked when he realized it was true.

Yrsa paused mid-step, nearly thrown off balance at the edge of the roof. Her toothy grin flashed white in the low light as she stared at him.

"You actually mean that," she chirped with just as much surprise as he felt.

"Of course I do," he soothed and set a foot firmly against her solid pedestal. His voice dropped. "But I'd like you to do something for me first."

Yrsa leaned in eagerly. "What's that?" She pressed.

He braced his feet firmly for her reaction, one balanced back and the other pressed into the curb. Izaya said, "Show me your wings," and then he pushed her from the roof.

As he'd expected the woman flung her arms out and grasped wildly for purchase. She hung off the side of the building, lighter than he'd expected, a deathly tight hold on the sleeves of his coat all that kept her from a plummet into the Kanda below.

"I-Izaya, what are you doing?" She asked with such terror reflected in her eyes it was like he held her life in his hands. Silly thing, she could easily fly away and he knew it, there was no need for such a dramatic look outside her own fondness for acting.

"Yrsa-chan, we both know there's no need for that look," he purred to her.

Izaya shifted and twisted until one arm came free of the sleeve. The shift jostled Yrsa and made her scream. He felt her grip on his other sleeve tighten, too afraid to try and get a firmer hold on the flesh below. There was that drama again that she loved so much, trying to make him think of her as something as mundane as his other humans; he wouldn't be fooled by her.

"This is crazy and you know it, Izaya! Now pull me up! Please!" She pleaded, tears glinting just at the edge of her eyes.

She screamed louder when he got his other arm out and swiftly contorted until the coat, and Yrsa, dangled in his hands. The tearing of strained fabric punched through the air. Yrsa made some sound like a wounded animal, pathetic and small; she tried to climb up, one hand making a mad dash for higher ground and the tearing sound grew louder.

"Best spread those wings soon, Yrsa-chan, I don't think my coat will hold out much longer," he mocked and swung the coat softly enough to rip another cry from her throat.

"Pull me up!" She screamed desperately through a distorted voice as the tears streamed down her cheeks.

"You know why I can't do that," he hummed gently. "You'll be fine." He let go of his coat.

Yrsa didn't scream, her mouth opened like she would but nothing came out. She let out a loud gasp, more shock than horror as she disappeared into the darkness climbing up the side of the building. Izaya waited, leaned over the edge and listening for the thrash of large wings cutting through air. He waited and waited but the sound of soft feathers never came. Far below he heard the deafening splash of a body crashing into water from too high a drop.

Perhaps for the first time, Izaya's mind was a blank. It was a horrible feeling, his next move lost to the white noise blaring in his skull, no contingency planned because by all rights Yrsa should have flown back up and landed on the roof, been angry with him for finally outing her for what she was. But he was alone on the roof in the cool night air without even his sharp mind to keep him company. He'd been so convinced of what she was, yet she hadn't sprouted wings and flown like he'd demanded.

* * *

Ok, explanations and more apologies are in order. A new semester has started so between classes and work I've significantly less time to write this, though I'll still be updating just... more slowly. Sorry again. At any rate I hope everyone enjoyed this extremely late update and if you did please review, I love the feedback and suggestions feed the destructive brainchild that is 'daydreaming during lectures'. Also, a quick hoorah because I finally wrangled up some artwork for the story! See you guys all next time, hopefully in a more timely manner.


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